


we clutch our bellies and roll on the floor

by rippedgloves



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: DEFINITELY not the kind of fake relationship people are expecting i dont think, M/M, a tiny bit of zarry and a whole lot of tomlinshaw friendship and maybe more than frienship too, and a bit of unrequited love and angst because lets be real it's me and i'm the angst queen, lots of pining, not another fake relationship au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippedgloves/pseuds/rippedgloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The only good thing about weddings is the open bar, anyway” says Nick, and Louis smirks at him because of the obvious change of subject. </p><p>“And the cake,” Zayn offers, “Nothing beats a good slice of wedding cake.”</p><p>He’s not really one with a sweet tooth, Louis, but drunk as he is, the prospect of not getting to eat Greg’s wedding cake seems like the worst thing in the world.</p><p>“I can’t believe I’m gonna miss his wedding cake,” he whines, pouting exaggeratedly, and both Nick and Zayn roll their eyes at him.</p><p>“You know you can just buy cake any time, right?” Nick tells him, shaking his head, “You don’t need to go to a wedding for that.”</p><p>“Or, even better,” suggests Zayn, “You can just pretend to be a couple planning a wedding, and go to a bakery for free samples of wedding cake.”</p><p>That’s how it all starts.</p><p>*</p><p>alternatively, the one in which Nick and Louis pretend to be engaged to get free cake samples and Louis develops a crush on their curly haired server.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't supposed to happen. i have 3 fics i'm supposed to be writing right now plus two movie scripts that should be my number one priority, and yet one text post developped into me writing promts in the tags and then into me writing the actual fic, apparently.
> 
> welcome to the hellhole that is my mind.

Louis is drunk.

He shouldn’t be, considering it’s a Tuesday and he’s working and there’s still over an hour to go before closing time, which is when his shift is over, but the thing is, it’s _Tuesday_ , possibly the slowest day of the week on the slowest month of the year and he hasn’t served anyone in over an hour and he’s _bored_.

Not only that, but Nick has been staring at Zayn instead of making conversation with him for the better part of their shift, and Zayn is the only one out of the three who still has tables, so he’s been busy most of the night, too.

Louis is bored, so he gets drunk. That’s it. There’s no deeper reason than that, and it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he got a call from Greg right before his shift started, and Greg told him he thought it was better if Louis didn’t attend his wedding, three days after Louis RSVP’d. 

“It’s not that I was dying to go, you know,” Louis says, downing yet another shot, his mouth starting to feel pasty, “Who wants to watch his ex-boyfriend sign away his life to another person? Not me.”

Nick hums, noncommittedly.

“Sure,” he says, never taking his eyes off of Zayn, who’s flirting with a group of girls sitting a few tables away from the bar.

Louis narrows his eyes at him, “I just thought we were past this, you know? The awkwardness. I thought we were finally at a good place. He’s one of my best friends, it’s real shit that he doesn’t want me at his wedding.”

“He probably does want you at his wedding,” Nick offers, “Maybe it’s just his boyfriend who doesn’t want you there.”

“Which is so stupid, Nick. I introduced them,” Louis takes the shot to his lips only to discover he had already drank it. Damn. “I took Greg to Aiden’s stupid David Bowie tribute and insisted he talked to my old friend from football team and left them alone to flirt with each other like school children. They’re together thanks to _me_.”

“Oh, goodness. Is he still talking about that stupid wedding?” Zayn asks Nick, setting a tray of empty glasses behind the bar and moving behind Louis to reach for the vodka bottle, “I’m still too sober for this.”

He pours himself a shot and refills the empty one sitting in front of Louis.

“Don’t you have tables to tend to?” Louis asks bitterly while Nick answers a “Sadly, yes.”

“The girls are getting ready to pay, and the folks in the back are about to leave, so I’m done. It’s almost two, no one is going to walk in now," He flashes them a smile, lifting up the bottle, “Grimmy?”

“Fine, why the hell not?”

Zayn pours him one and Louis tries not to laugh at Nick for the obvious grin that takes over his face, and then the three of them lift up their shot glasses and down them in a swift move.

Louis winces as it burns down his throat, even though he’s on his fifth –or maybe sixth?—shot and he should be numb enough not to feel it. He glares at Nick and Zayn as they both laugh at him, mocking his sour expression.

Whatever. It’s not Louis’ fault that Nick is seven years older than him and has ages of drinking on him, or that Zayn is, well, Zayn, and can down any liquor like it’s water. Maybe Zayn’s an angel, and that’s why he never gets drunk. Maybe he’s an alcoholic. Louis is undecided.

“Why do you even want to go to the stupid wedding, anyway?” Zayn asks, sipping from the glass of whisky he produced out of nowhere. Louis doesn’t understand Zayn’s ability to always have a drink in his hand. Never mind that they work at a bar; Louis has been with Zayn at a bloody library and all of a sudden he’s been holding a bottle of lager in his hands. It makes no sense at all.

“It’s not that I _want_ to go,” Louis explains, “It’s the _principle_ of it.”

“The principle, huh?” Nick asks, amused.

“Yeah, you know like. You know,” Louis frowns, “I just think Greg should want me there. I’m one of his _best_ friends.”

“You’re one of his good friends, Lou,” Zayn corrects him, “And who cares? I’m not going either.”

“You’re not?” Louis lights up, “Did he not invite you either?”

“No, he did,” Zayn shoots him a smirk, “I’m just gonna be out of town that weekend. Pez is taking me to her granddad’s cottage in the country. Said I could do a mural on the back.”

“I thought you and Pez were not—I thought you’d called it off,” Louis says, confused, taking a sip from Nick’s beer, who in turn elbows him on the side, “Ouch.”

“No, yeah, we did. We’re not—we’re just hanging out, yeah? Nothing serious, you know.”

Louis nods understandingly, even though he doesn’t really understand what the hell Zayn is talking about. He doesn’t do casual, hasn’t dated someone casually since he was in sixth form and still clinging to the last remnants of his heterosexuality and thought it would be a good idea to sleep with all the girls in his drama class. Louis likes long term, likes commitment. He was with Michael for the first two year of Uni and with Greg after that, for another two and a half. And maybe sometimes he’ll get a little drunk and let a pretty boy kiss him while they dance; whatever, he’s only human. He can’t imagine casually seeing one of his exes, though, not the way Zayn does.  

“The only good thing about weddings is the open bar, anyway” says Nick, and Louis smirks at him because of the obvious change of subject.

“And the cake,” Zayn offers, “Nothing beats a good slice of wedding cake.”

He’s not really one with a sweet tooth, Louis, but drunk as he is, the prospect of not getting to eat Greg’s wedding cake seems like the worst thing in the world.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna miss his wedding cake,” he whines, pouting exaggeratedly, and both Nick and Zayn roll their eyes at him.

“You know you can just buy cake any time, right?” Nick tells him, shaking his head, “You don’t need to go to a wedding for that.”

“Or, even better,” suggests Zayn, “You can just pretend to be a couple planning a wedding, and go to a bakery for free samples of wedding cake.”

That’s how it all starts.

“Yes, _ohmygod_ , yes! Zayn, you’re a genius!” Louis smashes his lips against Zayn’s, who pulls away fast, scowling, “Nick, you should do this with me.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” Nick says dryly, and Louis wonders if Nick’s glare has to do with the cake thing or with the fact that Louis just kissed Zayn.

“Yes, you should. It’s perfect. We know each other well enough that we can pretend to be a couple easily, and everyone always says we bicker like an old couple, anyway.”

“We do not.”

“Yes, you do,” Says Zayn, amused.

Louis puts his arm around Nick, pulling him closer, “Think about it’, it’d be hilarious. We can smoke up before we go, eat all the cake we can stomach and then we have’ll a hilarious story to tell everyone at the pub on Sunday.”

Sundays are the only days they all have off, only because it’s open mic night and the girls like to work those shifts, which means all three of them get the day. So of course, because clearly working at a bar is not enough, every Sunday they meet at the pub alongside a crew of the friends they made along the way. Being a waiter earns you surprising amounts of friends, Louis has discovered.

“I’ll buy all your drinks when we go,” Louis adds for good measure, knowing Nick won’t be able to resist an offer like that.

“You know, buying a cake would be a lot easier and cheaper than going through all that,” is Nick’s reply, though Louis can see him starting to give in.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Grimshaw?”

Zayn puts his arm around Nick’s shoulder, “You know he’s not going to give up until you agree, so you should just say yes.”

Nick groans out a _fine_ , and Louis takes out his phone to look at bakeries, and just like that, it’s settled.

It’s Zayn’s fault, really, that it all goes downhill from there.

 


	2. one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck is this, Grimshaw?” Louis asks as soon as he sets eyes on the sign.
> 
> “It’s a bakery,” Nick replies innocently, “You told me to make an appointment at a bakery, and I did.”
> 
> “It’s a vegan bakery, Nicholas. It clearly doesn’t count.” 
> 
> Nick smiles at him, and he’s so obviously gloating that Louis has a hard time not punching him in the face. We’re supposed to be in love, he tells himself, focus. 
> 
> “I can’t believe you ruined this,” he says mournfully as he pushes the door open, “I was so excited for this cake.”
> 
> “We’ll still get cake,” insists Nick, walking towards the counter.
> 
> “Yeah, fucking shitty vegan cake, that probably tastes like cardboard.”
> 
> “Um,” a voice says behind them, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything but. I promise that none of our cakes taste like cardboard. Personally, I think our cakes are brilliant and not, um, shitty, but. You’re welcome to try them and decide for yourself.”
> 
> Louis turns around, conflicted between telling this stranger that all vegan cakes are obviously shitty and apologizing for talking bad about their food, but words die in his throat as soon as he sets his eyes on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think vegan food tastes like cardboard i love vegan food pls dont be offended

Louis meets Nick at his apartment, per Nick’s request, the day of the cake sampling, about an hour before they’re supposed to be there for their appointment. Nick’s dressed in one of those ridiculous button downs he wears when he’s trying to look posh, along with black slacks and black leather boots.

“Are you seriously going to wear that to a fucking cake tasting?”

“It’s not my fault that you’ve got no taste, Tomlinson,” says Nick, glaring at him, “You do not get to criticize my clothing choices. Look at what you’re wearing.”

Nick might have a point, considering Louis is wearing Adidas trackies and a jumper.

“I didn’t do my laundry this week, okay?” he shrugs, “I was hoping I could bum something off you.”

“You insult my fashion sense then you ask to wear my clothes,” Nick shakes his head, “Who are you?”

Louis laughs, shrugging again, before walking past Nick and draping himself all over Nick’s red velvet sofa; which Louis made fun of endlessly the first ten times he was over at Nick’s, because who the fuck gets a red velvet sofa? But he's grown quite attached to it, with time.

“My clothes wouldn’t fit you anyway,” Nick smirks, sitting across from Louis.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m calling you short.”

Louis huffs and glares at Nick, but doesn’t argue. They’ve been through this before, and Louis can’t argue against facts, not after Nick pulled a measuring tape on him and googled the average height on every European country. Whatever. Louis is hotter than Nick, anyway.

“Did you work last night?” Louis asks as he rolls a joint on Nick’s coffee table, “Was your lover there?”

Nick smacks him in the head, but nods, “I was in the upper level with Cara though, so we sat around most of the night.”

“Was Z at the bar?”

“Yeah,” Nick answers bitterly, “He’s training the new bartender, Gigi.”

“The pretty, blonde one?” Louis asks, and Nick groans, stealing the joint from him, “Hey, I was gonna light that!”

“Too late,” Nick says right before he takes a drag, “Damn, this is good, where did you get this one?”

“Zayn.”

Nick groans again, then passes the joint to Louis. Louis smiles apologetically at him as he takes it and the thing is, he knows he should give Nick a break with the Zayn thing, because clearly it’s gone from a ridiculous unlikely crush and now it Means Something, and Louis doesn’t want to hurt Nick’s feelings but the mere thought of Nick and Zayn together is just. Beyond hilarious.

It’s not like Nick ever dates anyone, or likes anyone long enough that it can turn into dating, so Louis doesn’t know how serious he should take this, considering Nick hasn’t even acknowledged that he has a crush on Zayn. But Louis knows, okay, he can tell by the way he catches Nick staring at Zayn when Zayn’s not looking, or how he blushes whenever Zayn praises him, or asks him for his opinion on some music that he’s writing. Nick is unabashed and overconfident and ridiculous with most people, but with Zayn it’s like he doesn’t know how to act. It reminds Louis an awful lot of the way Nick used to be when they first met.

He closes his eyes as he inhales, and _shit_ , Nick is right, it is good shit.

“How many different cakes do you think we’ll get to try?” Nick asks dreamily, and Louis bursts into laughter.

“Who’s the fat one now?”

Nick mumbles something along the lines of _never called you fat_ and snatches the joint back from Louis. Louis sits back, closing his eyes and enjoying the tinging feeling spreading to his limbs.

“We should do this every week. Get high, go to a bakery, pretend to be engaged, eat cake.”

“Let’s see how today goes first,” Nick says, exhaling smoke in Louis’ face to which Louis replies with a glare, “For all we know, we might be rubbish at being a fake couple.”

 _We’re also rubbish at being a real couple_ , Louis thinks.

“That’s bullshit. Maybe you are rubbish at acting, Grimshaw, but I’m brilliant,” he says instead, because he’s high and as much as he likes to joke about how terrible Nick is in bed, they’ve never really delved into that territory and Louis doesn’t know where they stand on the subject.

Nick laughs at him, and Louis glares again, and then they start talking about the Grimes album Nick keeps bugging Louis to listen to, because Nick thinks she’s brilliant and wants everyone to get into her music but Louis can’t help thinking she’s a little too pretentious.

They’re somewhere between reasonably high and stoned out of their minds by the time they walk out of the apartment, and Louis can’t stop laughing at the image that the two of them must make, with their height difference and very obvious style differences. He wonders how the hell they’re ever going to convince anyone that they’re a couple.

“Here we are,” Nick announces a few blocks later, pointing at a small shop with a pink roof overhang and vintage letters on the window.

“What the fuck is this, Grimshaw?” Louis asks as soon as he sets eyes on the sign.

“It’s a bakery,” Nick replies innocently, “You told me to make an appointment at a bakery, and I did.”

“It’s a _vegan_ bakery, Nicholas. It clearly doesn’t count.”

Nick smiles at him, and he’s so obviously gloating that Louis has a hard time not punching him in the face. _We’re supposed to be in love_ , he tells himself _, focus_.

“I can’t believe you ruined this,” he says mournfully as he pushes the door open, “I was so excited for the cake.”

“We’ll still get cake,” insists Nick, walking towards the counter.

“Yeah, fucking shitty _vegan_ cake, that probably tastes like cardboard.”

“Um,” a voice says behind them, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything but. I promise that none of our cakes taste like cardboard. Personally, I think our cakes are brilliant and not, um, shitty, but. You’re welcome to try them and decide for yourself.”

Louis turns around, conflicted between telling this stranger that all vegan cakes are obviously shitty and apologizing for talking bad about their food, but words die in his throat as soon as he sets his eyes on _him_.

And it’s not—Louis wouldn’t say he has a type, per se. The only thing Greg and Michael had in common is that they were tall –and gave good head—and they’re the only two people Louis has ever seriously dated so he doesn’t think he can honestly say that he has a type. But if he did, green eyes and dimples and long, luscious curls would definitely be it. He wonders how it’s possible that this stranger fits the man of his fantasies to a T.

“Please forgive my fiancé,” Nick says between giggles, “he has a tendency to run his mouth.”

So he has obviously caught on to Louis’ being suddenly _affected_ by this boy. Great, Louis thinks bitterly, Nick’s never going to let him live this down. 

“That’s alright,” Curly God says, smiling even wider, which only serves to intensify his dimples and make Louis want to _die_ , “I’ll admit I was partial to non-vegan cake before I started working here, but I changed my mind rather quick. I take it you’re here for the cake sampling, right? The Grimshaws?”

“Soon to be,” Nick says, smiling and putting his arm around Louis waist, and Louis can’t tell if he’s too high and his brain is messing with him or if the Curly God’s smile actually falters.  

“Well, congratulations,” he says, nodding his head once, “Would you like to sit at the bar here or do you want me to find you a table?”

“The bar is fine,” Nick replies, because Louis is still gaping at Curly God, “Right, love?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Louis forces himself to say, managing to finally look away from Curly God and set his eyes on Nick, who’s smirking at him.

They’re directed to the bar, sitting close together on the pink stools, and Curly God excuses himself and says he’ll be right back, and Louis turns to Nick and has an absolute meltdown.

“Ohmygod,” he says, clutching his face, “Nick, _Nick_ , did you see him? Oh my _god_.”

Nick has the audacity to laugh at him, “I did, in fact, see him, as he was right in front of me.”

“His face, Nicholas, did you see his face?”

“I’ll admit he is awfully pretty, in that way you seem to like so much,” Nick says, scrunching up his nose.

“Mate, you like Zayn, you can’t give me shit about liking pretty boys.”

“Zayn isn’t pretty, he is handsome, gorgeous, hand crafted by Gods,” Nick declares, then seems to realize his mistake and adds, with much more composure, “Not that I like him, of course. Just making an objective observation.”

“Please,” Louis snorts, “no one has wanted so badly into Zayn’s pants since that creepy old man that tried to convince him to join his modelling agency.”

Nick glares at him, but doesn’t comment.

“Do you think he smells like cake?”

“Who?”

“Curly God, obviously,” Louis says without realizing, then clutches both hands over his mouth.

“Curly—“Nick’s eyes widen, then he bursts out laughing, “Oh my god, Louis, I cannot— _Curly_ _God,_ I can’t believe this.”

“Shut up.”

“I am literally never going to shut up about this,” Nick says delightedly, “It’s all I’m going to talk about for the rest of my life.”

Louis smacks Nick in the back of the head and opens his mouth to retort with some insult about Nick’s old age or receding hairline or anything that will make Louis feel like his winning, but of course, that’s when Curly God returns to them, standing behind the counter wearing a pink apron and matching hat and Louis is rendered speechless.

“So,” Curly God says, “You’ve selected some of our styles when you made your appointment. I can bring whichever one you want first but may I suggest you start with the Grasshoper, our chocolate kale cake, which is rich but not too heavy.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Nick answers, and Louis looks at him incredulously.

Nick must be out of his mind if he thinks Louis is going to try a cake that contains kale.

“I literally hate you, Grimshaw,” Louis says.

The only reply from Nick is a smirk as he hands him a fork, and then Curly God is depositing a plate with a rather generous piece of chocolate in front of them with a goodhearted “Enjoy.”

Louis refuses to take a bite until Nick has tried it, even though he’s positive that Nick will pretend that it’s delicious even though it tastes like arse just to mess with Louis, so when Nick takes a bite and positively moans around the fork, Louis can’t decide whether to trust his reaction or not.

He narrows his eyes at Nick, “Are you trying to trick me into trying something that tastes like arse?”

“But darling, I thought you loved eating arse,” Nicks says,

Normally, Louis would laugh at such a comment from Nick; it’s something they do all the time, at the bar, try and embarrass the other talking about their sexual preferences –Louis’ favourite was telling all their co-workers about Nick’s thing for _watersports_ , because he hadn’t even known it was truth at the time.

Any other time, Louis would have laughed and retaliate with something worse, or maybe acknowledge that, hey, yes, he’s a grown man and maybe he does enjoy eating arse from time to time, ain’t nothing wrong with that; except there’s a chuckle, and Louis looks up to find Curly God standing right in front of him on the other side of the bar and God, when did his life become this.

And of course, Louis blushes, lost for words, and just stares at Curly God, who is looking at him with amuse and just maybe something more, and doesn’t realize his mouth is hanging open until he closes it around a fork that Nick shoves into it. Bless Nicholas for being a true friend.

“Okay,” Louis says once he’s swallowed and regained the power of speech, “that most definitely didn’t taste like arse.”

Curly God’s head snaps back as he lets out a bark of laughter, his dimples showing up again, then says, “Good to know. I’ll let the owner know, maybe she’ll add it to the description on the menu.”

Louis laughs and automatically wants to die because Curly God can’t be this good looking and also be funny. It’s not fair and it should certainly be illegal.

Louis takes another bite of the stupid, delicious chocolate cake so he can’t say anything stupid and embarrass himself.

“I hope you don’t think I’m rude asking this,” Curly God says, “But is your shirt from House of Holland summer collection? The one that’s not out yet?”

It takes a moment for Louis to realize that he’s not the one being spoken to.

“Ah, yes,” Nick says, smiling proudly, “Henry’s a pal, so—“

“Nicholas here has a lot of designer friends, you see,” Louis says mockingly, and Curly God smiles at him.

“Ignore him, please, he has an appalling fashion taste.”

“I didn’t know there was a dress code for eating cake, love,” Louis says bitterly, kicking Nick behind the counter, where Curly God can’t see him.

“No dress code, mate, you’re good,” Curly God flashes him a grin and Louis has to hold on to Nick’s leg not to fall off his stool, “Though we encourage people to wear bonnets.”

He nods towards a table to their left, where three older ladies are wearing bonnet-like hats in the same colour as their dresses. Louis positively loses his shit at that, laughing more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for until Nick pinches his leg.

When Louis looks up, Curly God is smiling at him, looking very pleased with himself.

“Boo bear,” Nick says, and Louis blood literally boils, “We should wear matching bonnets for our wedding.”

Louis attempts to kick Nick again, but he moves to fast, and  Louis hits the counter instead.

“Boo bear, huh?” Curly God asks, raising an eyebrow, and for the millionth time today, Louis wants to melt into the ground and disappear.  

“It’s Louis, actually,” he says, smiling politely and ignoring the way Nick is giggling besides him, “Only my mom calls me that.”

“And me,” adds Nick, because clearly he hates Louis and wants to ruin his life.

“Nicholas, why don’t you tell us which cake we’re going to try next?” Louis suggests, hoping to divert the subject.

“I was thinking maybe the raspberry avocado,” Nick says, smirking.

Louis is about to reply that there is no way he’s going to eat cake with bloody avocado in it, but then Curly God says, “Wonderful, Berry’s Advocade is my favorite one,” so he shuts up.

Two minutes later, a slice of pink cake with a very fluffy white frosting is deposited in front of Louis. It doesn’t look like there’s avocado in it, so Louis isn’t too worried.

“Let me know what you think of this one,” Curly God says, “My name is Harry, by the way.”

He walks away, and Louis is left staring at the space he had just occupied. _Harry_. It’s not the name Louis would have guessed for him, but it fits him; it rolls nicely off his tongue, and Louis can see himself moaning it loudly as Harry pounds into him.

“Are you done fantasizing?” Nick asks, and Louis wonders if the smirk is a permanent feature in his face now, “Can we eat the cake?”

“Shut up,” Louis mumbles, but he stabs the cake with his fork and takes a bite.

Louis moans, he actually moans around the fork, and all of his preconceptions about vegan food are out of the window because this might be the greatest piece of cake he has ever had.

“Harry, Harold! This is it. I’ve found it, this is our wedding cake.”

“M’name’s not Harold,” Harry says as he promptly shows up in front of them again, “But I’m glad you liked the cake. Hopefully your views on vegan food have changed after it?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Louis says, and takes the bite that Nick was about to get on his fork, “This cake is brilliant. I want to eat it every day for the rest of my life.”

“Calm down there, cowboy, you’ve got a wedding dress to fit into.”

Of course, Nick, being the actual devil, had to ruin Louis’ moment. Except, this time, Louis is positive he notices the way Harry’s smile dampens at the mention of the wedding, and the high is wearing off after a slice and a half of cake, so he knows he’s not imagining it.

“Are you sure this cake is the one you want?” Harry asks, and his voice is a tad less enthusiastic, “Or would you still like to try some other options?”

“I think,” Nick says, because Louis is too busy analysing Harry’s smile, “We’ll try one more.”

So they eat three more slices of cake, two of which Louis likes and one that he absolutely hates (“ _This is rabbit food, Harold, rabbit food! You should be ashamed to be serving this to humans.”)_ and by then Louis is so full he can barely keep his eyes open, and he needs another joint to begin digesting all that food.

Louis makes it a point to call Harry Harold the entire time and every time Harry says that’s not his name but smiles a little brighter, and eventually Nick stops mentioning the wedding and calling Louis ‘darling’. Louis catches him smirking more than once but he still lets Louis’ grow more comfortable talking to Harry and teasing him about his bad taste _(“Kale is a vegetable Harold.” “It’s Harry.” “You can’t put a vegetable into a smoothie, it’s wrong.” “It’s magical.”_ ) He only interrupts when Louis is getting a little too flirty, pinching his name as he changes the subject with a random comment. Louis thinks he might love Nick, after all.

“Well, it’s time I get this one home,” Nick says when Louis attempts to eat the last bite of lemon cake and misses his own mouth, “But I think we both agree the raspberry avocado one is the winner.”

Harry nods, and Louis can’t tell if he imagines the disappointment in his face, “You can call in any time to confirm your order with all the specifics; how many guests, how many tiers, etcetera.”

“We will, Harold,” Louis says, his smile broadening when Harry doesn’t correct him, “And we will absolutely be back to eat more cake and complain about your rabbit food.”

“Don’t forget your bonnet next time” Harry says, and Louis giggles.

 Nick puts an arm around Louis and mutters, “You’re the most obvious person in the world,” before turning around and thanking Harry for everything.

They’re about to walk out the door when Harry calls out for them.

 “Here’s my card,” he says, handing Louis a small white card with lilac lettering, “I do all the decorations at the shop so. If you wanted to discuss your ideas for the cake, or wanted some suggestions, just email or call to that number.”

“Cheers,” Nick says, because Louis is staring at the card with his mouth hanging open, “Thanks mate.”

They stay silent the entire walk home, and as soon as they’re inside Louis launches towards his sofa, taking the leftover butt of the joint and bringing it to his lips.

“Nick,” he says, huffing out the smoke and digging the card out of his pocket, “Nick, what am I going to _do_?”

“You should call the wedding off, first thing,” Nick jokes, sitting down and taking the joint from Louis.

Louis kicks him in the shin, and stares at the pink little letters on the card that read “Harry Styles, Custom Cake Design” with a little cupcake next to them, trying to figure out a way to see Harry Styles again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish i could tell u that i'm going to stick to some sort of posting schedule but i'm a mess and can't handle deadlines so next chapter will be up whenever i get my act together 
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr: rimharry

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: rimharry


End file.
